| dum Fortuna fuit. Feror huc, et litore curvo | my native shore, the haven and the plains |
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| moenia prima loco, fatis ingressus iniquis | where once was Troy . An exile on the seas |
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| Aeneadasque meo nomen de nomine fingo. | with son and followers and household shrines |
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| auspicibus coeptorum operum, superoque nitentem | There is a far-off land where warriors breed |
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| caelicolum regi mactabam in litore taurum. | where Thracians till the boundless plains, and where |
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| Forte fuit iuxta tumulus, quo cornea summo | the cruel-eyed Lycurgus once was king. |
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| virgulta et densis hastilibus horrida myrtus. | Troy's old ally it was, its deities |
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| Accessi, viridemque ab humo convellere silvam | had brotherhood with ours before our fall. |
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| conatus, ramis tegerem ut frondentibus aras | Thither I fared, and on its winding shores |
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| horrendum et dictu video mirabile monstrum. | et my first walls, though partial Fate opposed |
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| Nam, quae prima solo ruptis radicibus arbos | our entrance there. In memory of my name |
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| et terram tabo maculant. Mihi frigidus horror | Unto Dione's daughter, and all gods |
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| membra quatit, gelidusque coit formidine sanguis. | who blessed our young emprise, due gifts were paid; |
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| Rursus et alterius lentum convellere vimen | and unto the supreme celestial King |
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| insequor, et causas penitus temptare latentis: | I slew a fair white bull beside the sea. |
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| ater et alterius sequitur de cortice sanguis. | But haply near my place of sacrifice |
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| Multa movens animo nymphas venerabar agrestis | a mound was seen, and on the summit grew |
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| Gradivumque patrem, Geticis qui praesidet arvis | a copse of corner and a myrtle tree |
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| rite secundarent visus omenque levarent. | with spear-like limbs outbranched on every side. |
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| Tertia sed postquam maiore hastilia nisu | This I approached, and tried to rend away |
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| adgredior, genibusque adversae obluctor harenae— | from its deep roots that grove of gloomy green |
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| eloquar, an sileam?—gemitus lacrimabilis imo | and dress my altars in its leafy boughs. |
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| auditur tumulo, et vox reddita fertur ad auris: | But, horrible to tell, a prodigy |
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| Quid miserum, Aenea, laceras? Iam parce sepulto; | mote my astonished eyes: for the first tree |
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| parce pias scelerare manus. Non me tibi Troia | which from the earth with broken roots I drew |
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| externum tulit, aut cruor hic de stipite manat. | dripped black with bloody drops, and gave the ground |
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| Heu, fuge crudelis terras, fuge litus avarum: | dark stains of gore. Cold horror shook my frame |
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| nam Polydorus ego; hic confixum ferrea texit | and every vein within me froze for fear. |
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| telorum seges et iaculis increvit acutis. | Once more I tried from yet another stock |
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| Tum vero ancipiti mentem formidine pressus | the pliant stem to tear, and to explore |
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| obstipui, steteruntque comae et vox faucibus haesit. | the mystery within,—but yet again |
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| Hunc Polydorum auri quondam cum pondere magno | the foul bark oozed with clots of blackest gore! |
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| infelix Priamus furtim mandarat alendum | From my deep-shaken soul I made a prayer |
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| Threicio regi, cum iam diffideret armis | to all the woodland nymphs and to divine |
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| Dardaniae, cingique urbem obsidione videret. | Gradivus, patron of the Thracian plain |
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| Ille, ut opes fractae Teucrum, et Fortuna recessit | to bless this sight, to lift its curse away. |
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| res Agamemnonias victriciaque arma secutus | But when at a third sheaf of myrtle spears |
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| fas omne abrumpit; Polydorum obtruncat, et auro | I fell upon my knees, and tugged amain |
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| vi potitur. Quid non mortalia pectora cogis | against the adverse ground (I dread to tell!) |
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| auri sacra fames? Postquam pavor ossa reliquit | a moaning and a wail from that deep grave |
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| delectos populi ad proceres primumque parentem | burst forth and murmured in my listening ear: |
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| monstra deum refero, et quae sit sententia posco. | “Why wound me, great Aeneas, in my woe? |
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| Omnibus idem animus, scelerata excedere terra | O, spare the dead, nor let thy holy hands |
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| linqui pollutum hospitium, et dare classibus austros. | do sacrilege and sin! I, Trojan-born |
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| Ergo instauramus Polydoro funus, et ingens | was kin of thine. This blood is not of trees. |
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| aggeritur tumulo tellus; stant Manibus arae | Haste from this murderous shore, this land of greed. |
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| caeruleis maestae vittis atraque cupresso | O, I am Polydorus! Haste away! |
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| et circum Iliades crinem de more solutae; | Here was I pierced; a crop of iron spears |
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| inferimus tepido spumantia cymbia lacte | has grown up o'er my breast, and multiplied |
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| sanguinis et sacri pateras, animamque sepulchro | to all these deadly javelins, keen and strong.” |
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| condimus, et magna supremum voce ciemus. | Then stood I, burdened with dark doubt and fear |
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| NaN |
| dant maria et lenis crepitans vocat Auster in altum | For once this Polydorus, with much gold |
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| deducunt socii navis et litora complent: | ill-fated Priam sent by stealth away |
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| provehimur portu, terraeque urbesque recedunt. | for nurture with the Thracian king, what time |
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